by Adams,Claire
I took another sip of my whiskey, savoring its dry, woody flavor. There was nothing in the world quite like properly aged single malt whiskey. It reminded me of my grandfather. It was the first taste of alcohol he’d shared with me.
I stood and headed over to my telescope. There was a full moon, and it was bright and clear in the sky. I leaned over and pressed my eye to the eyepiece, then moved the telescope around until I was focused on the moon. I zoomed in, as close as I could get without losing focus.
I stared in silent wonder at the craters and valleys of the moon, and for a fleeting, intense moment, I wished that Lilah was by my side to share it with.
Since I'd been a boy, it had been a dream of mine to be an astronaut. Life, though, had other plans. I loved my job, and the company was my life. I had no regrets about devoting all my energy and talent to it—but still, there remained the dream of one day flying amongst the stars.
I lost myself, staring at the moon and her craters and hills, and I wasn't quite sure how long I'd been staring when my phone rang. I snapped out of the trance I'd been in, and bent down to pick up the phone from where it was sitting on my deckchair.
“Asher here,” I said.
“Asher, it's Alan.”
“Alan, good to hear from you. Got any news for me?”
“Our PI has some leads on the case. He'd like to meet with you and to discuss a few things.”
“I'd like that, too.”
“When do you have time?”
“Whew. This week is crazy. I'll be working over the weekend, too. There's really no end in sight. Can he call Janice and see what’s on my schedule early next week?”
“Asher, you'll wanna hear what this guy has to say and you’re not going to want to wait.”
I glanced at my watch. “All right, listen, it's still early enough in the evening. It's only around eight o' clock now. Do you think the guy could meet now?”
“I’m sure he'll be fine with that.”
“I'll send my driver out to pick you and him up. We can talk here at my place, if that's all right. I have a few items of work I need to get done, and I can't waste time driving myself.”
“That'll be fine, sir. I'll send you my address and his, and we'll see you shortly.”
“Excellent. I'll forward the addresses and your numbers to my driver. See you soon.”
I cut off the call and waited for the text with the addresses. When they came through, I forwarded them to Alfred, who left to pick up Alan and the PI. I sighed, reluctant to leave my little sanctuary with my telescope and whiskey.
I knew, however, that I needed to get to the work I needed to finish, not just because it needed to be done, but also because it helped distract me from getting too lost in my thoughts, too fixated on a certain, beautiful woman and her unpredictable behavior.
***
“Matt Eaton, pleased to meet you,” the PI said as he shook my hand.
He was a short, bald, rotund man with a thick, walrus mustache–he didn't look anything like the type of private investigators you see in movies or on TV shows. Still, I knew from his reputation that he was one of the best, and that's why I'd hired him.
“Great to meet you, Matt, and thanks for helping us with this case. Now, why don't you and Alan come on in and we'll have a seat and talk about what you've discovered.”
“Thanks.”
We went into my den, where there were a couple of sofas and a large coffee table. This was where I usually received guests and business associates. My butler came out to see if anyone wanted drinks.
“I'll have some Glenfiddich forty-year-old, on the rocks,” I said to him. “Gents, what would you guys like?”
“A beer for me, whatever kind you've got,” replied Alan.
“No booze for me,” said Matt, “I gave it up years ago. Orange juice, if you've got.”
My butler nodded and went off to prepare the drinks.
“Well, Matt, let's not waste time. On to business. What have you found out so far?”
“I'm pretty sure your suspicions are correct, Mr. Sinclair. All the evidence is pointing to Brendan Savage being behind the break-in.”
I nodded grimly. “I knew it. I just knew it. That bastard.”
“Unfortunately, as of yet, I don't have anything conclusive,” Matt added. “Nothing that would hold up in court, anyway. I mean, that's what you're after, right? You wanna hit this guy with everything you've got, of course, but only when you've got a watertight case, only when you can prove that he was behind this. And right now, I'll tell you, what I've got is very, very strong, but just not enough to be watertight. He's done a great job of covering his tracks. He's got some real pros working for him.”
I sighed. “Do you think you can get a watertight case against him?”
“I might be able to, but it's gonna take a lot more time and a lot more digging.”
“That's fine. You keep working on it. I want to prove that this guy is behind it. I want to face him in court—and win.”
“That’s my plan, Mr. Sinclair. Just give me enough time to gather the evidence I need on him, and you'll win.”
“Good.”
Alan cleared his throat before he piped in. “There's more, though, sir. Matt has discovered something else about Mr. Savage and his interest in your company. Or rather, his interest in someone specific in your company.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”
“Yes, sir. One of the things the hacker was able to penetrate was the employee database. However, the strange thing was he only extracted one file from the hundreds of files there,” Alan added.
“And just who’s file did they take?”
“Lilah Maxwell,” Matt commented.
A jolt ripped through my body at the mention of her name.
“What?” I exclaimed. “Lilah?”
Matt nodded. “Yes. When we learned it was her file that had been extracted, I did some digging. It seems Brendan Savage is very, very interested in her. I believe he intends to poach her from your company.”
Flushes of heat surged along my skin. “How do you know this?”
“I've been trailing Savage in the evening hours since you mentioned you suspected him. And it turns out, he's been following Ms. Maxwell. I'm not sure how long this has gone on for. But he definitely knows that she was the driving force behind the sudden success of one of your company's recent campaigns. And, he wants her on his team. According to my source, he knows talent when he sees it.”
“Tell me more,” I said, although I wasn't quite sure that I wanted to hear more.
“Savage may have even tapped her phone. He knew that she was meeting her brother Edward at McGinty's pub on Tuesday evening. And he set it up so that he would 'bump into' her. I was there, at the back, watching everything. He really turned on the charm.”
I felt my blood getting hotter and hotter as Matt spoke, but I did my best to retain a facade of cool collectedness.
“Really? And what happened? Between, uh, Lilah and Savage?”
“Oh uh, well, they ended up talking for a long while. He appeared to be laying on the charm, pulling out all the stops. But she seemed resistant to it, hesitant to talk to him too much. Mostly, it appeared he was the one talking and she listened.”
I breathed out a subtle sigh of relief, although the jealousy and anger remained simmering in my core.
“So, what else do you know about this particular situation?” I asked. “I mean, between Lilah and Savage? After that bar meeting, has there been any further contact?”
“Yes.”
Again, heat rushed through my body and I felt my breathing becoming quicker.
“What? How?”
“They've connected on social media. More than that I can't tell yet; I could get someone I know to hack into the message system to see if they've been messaging one another, but it's risky. If my associate and I get caught, we could face charges.”
“All right, I'm not going to ask you to do that.”
> “I can monitor his phone calls to her if you'd like. That's easy enough and pretty low-risk.”
“Please, do that. We need to, uh, we need to keep tabs on this situation.”
“Can do. Is there anything else you'd like me to do? I mean, I can open up an investigation on her, as well? Monitor her, have one of my team tail her, do a bit of digging. There is a risk that she could sell him a number of company secrets. And you know, of course, how disastrous that could be.”
I paused for a moment to consider this. I had no qualms about invading the privacy of a scumbag like Brendan Savage, but to do it to Lilah was an entirely different matter. Matt was right about the risk that she could sell valuable company information to Savage, but I didn't see her doing that. Lilah had too much integrity. I didn't think that it would be a risk at all, in fact.
There was no way I could do that to her. Not a chance.
“Just stick with Savage,” I instructed. “I think the risk of Lilah selling me out is minimal. Non-existent, actually.”
“You sure? Often those closest to a person are the first to betray them,” Matt said. “I've seen it all too many times in my line of work, trust me on that.”
“I'm sure you have. But I trust her. I'd trust her with my life, in fact.”
“Suit yourself. I'll stick with Savage, then.”
“Good. We'll get to the bottom of this.” No matter how long it took.
CHAPTER 26
Lilah
I woke up early Friday morning to go on my usual running route before work. And, yet again, someone in particular had woken up before me. On my phone was a Facebook message from Brendan.
Good morning, beautiful :) Was just wondering what you're up to this evening? If you're free, let me know. There's an amazing new restaurant having their official opening tonight. I'm on the guest list, and I haven't chosen my plus one yet–well, I have, but I'm waiting to see if you'll agree to go.
Trust me, this place is going to be the talk of all of the food columnists for the next few weeks. It's that famous French chef with the cooking show. It's his first restaurant in the US, and it's already booked for two months out.
But, like I said, I'm on the guest list and would love to take you. We can talk a little more about my offer.
It's a black tie event, so you'll need to dress up. I admit, I’d love to take you anywhere, but I’m looking forward to seeing you in an evening dress. I suspect it'll knock me clean off my feet.
Let me know as soon as you've decided.
Brendan
I reread the message, then put my phone down while I got changed into my running gear. Brendan had been relentless in terms of messaging me over the past few days. He'd made it clear that he was interested in me in many more ways than professionally. And, although I couldn't say I felt the same about him, I'd heard a lot about his company and he was definitely a force to be considered in the PR world.
Of course, Asher had been on my mind a lot, as well. It was proving impossible to forget the night we'd spent together in Paris. At random moments during the day, a steamy recollection of that evening would jump into my head, and I'd gasp for breath and heat would flush through my body. The thought of him made me instantly weak at the knees.
But, at the same time, the conflict remained in my mind.
He was my boss. And, he had a reputation as someone whose taste in women was fast and fickle.
So, while he seemed to be truly sincere and genuine about his affection for me, part of me couldn’t help wondering if I was just the flavor of the month, waiting to be dumped when he was ready to move on to whatever model or actress caught his attention next.
And, of course, there were the professional consequences of this little union, consequences which could spell disaster for my career if anything went sour. I'd worked my ass off to get where I was, to ascend the ladder from the ground up to the rung I was currently perched on–however precariously.
So, while I sat and fought these battles in my mind in silence and isolation, I had done the only thing I knew was safe to do under such circumstances: I'd deliberately kept my distance from Asher, keeping things quiet and cool between us.
I know I probably seemed like a flake who couldn’t make up her mind, but I had to; it was the only way I could cope with what was going on. It was what I needed to do until I reached some sort of resolution for this.
I had hoped going for a run would help clear my head of the conflict floating around my mind, but it didn’t. It did, apparently spur me on. I ran my five miles in a personal record time, although when I got back, it felt as if I'd pushed things a little too hard. Still, nothing a nice, hot refreshing shower couldn’t cure.
While sipping on my post-run breakfast smoothie, I considered Brendan's invitation to the new restaurant in town. I didn't want to give him the impression that I was romantically interested in him, but I did want to find out more about his professional offer, if only to satisfy my curiosity. It would be nice to see what other options might be available to me if things between Asher and I reached a point where I'd need to leave The Sinclair Agency.
And, of course, the thought of being on a VIP list at one of the city's hottest new restaurants was a bit of a draw-card, too; I couldn't deny that.
I took out my phone and typed out a quick reply.
Hi, Brendan,
I appreciate the invitation to the new restaurant. I'm interested in hearing about your offer. So, with that in mind, I'd like to accept your invitation. What time do I need to be ready, and where should I meet you?
I sent the text before I changed my mind. The response was almost immediate.
Hi, Lilah :)
I'll pick you up at eight. Just let me know your address. See you tonight. Remember…dressed to the nines! Really looking forward to seeing you pull that off :)
Wow, he didn't waste any time. A sly smirk played on my lips. I couldn't deny there was definitely something about having not one, but two bonafide billionaires vying for my attention at once that boosted my confidence. Who would have thought such a thing could happen to me? I never would have dreamed of such a thing happening to me in a million years, yet there I was.
With a smile on my face, I began to get ready for work. I had a Friday full of meetings to get through before what I expected to be an interesting evening.
***
“You can never go wrong with a little, black dress.”
At least, that’s what Meg said while I was debating over which dress to wear to the restaurant opening. And she was right. Her logic—even if you spill something on it, odds are it won’t show up.
So, I chose a sleek, black number that accentuated my curves and paired it with a new set of gleaming, black stilettos I hadn’t had a chance to wear yet. I'd even spent an hour doing my hair, which I rarely did. But Meg insisted that a backless dress required an up-do. So, she’d stopped by and assisted in creating a fairly intricate style with several small braids and loose curls. When she was done, I informed her that she’d make a fantastic hair stylist.
I was ready thirty minutes ahead of schedule. So, she and I had a glass of wine before she had to go get ready for her own date.
Brendan sent me a message when he was on his way. I had just gotten down to the lobby of my building when I heard a booming roar echoing from outside. I stepped out onto the sidewalk as a polished, black supercar pulled up outside my building, revving its engine loudly. The driver's side door opened and inside sat Brendan, smiling cheekily.
His eyes widened as he climbed out of the car.
“Wowzer!” he said. “You're looking absolutely gorgeous! And you match my car,” he quipped. “I chose this one out of the stable and it happens to be the only black one I've got. I must be psychic, right?”
I couldn't help but chuckle.
“Psychic, huh? Maybe just a lucky guess is more like it.”
“Either way,” he joked, flashing me a broad smile. “Come on, climb in.”
I walked aro
und to the passenger side of the car as pedestrians stopped to gawk at the sight of the sleek beast.
“Like my ride?” he asked as I climbed in. “It's a Bugatti Veyron. One of the fastest cars on the planet.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“I know a thing or two about motors. I grew up working on them.”
“A woman of many talents, huh?”
“I guess you could say that.”
He grinned. “Well, I’m not too crazy about working on them. I just like driving them; and when I say that, I mean driving the hell out of them. You all strapped in?”
I locked the racing-style seatbelt across my torso. “Yep, all locked in.”
“Great. Hang on tight.”
He dropped the clutch and floored the accelerator, spinning the tires in a howl of shrieking rubber and black smoke, and with that, we tore off at speed, racing through the night streets.
Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up outside the restaurant, screeching to a dramatic halt and causing most of the people waiting behind the velvet queue ropes to turn and stare. Brendan hopped out and grinned, and tossed the Bugatti's keys to a waiting valet, who was gawking at the vehicle with a slack jaw.
“Park her nicely, kid,” Brendan said to the young man, who couldn't have been older than twenty or twenty-one. “Or I'm gonna have to kill ya. Because if you put a single scratch on my baby, it's gonna take you the next thirty years to pay for it on your salary.”
The remark was uncalled for, and it left a bad taste in my mouth. We could enjoy the finer things in life without rubbing it in the faces of those who were less fortunate.
Still, the kid seemed to brush it off, and instead wore an ear-to-ear grin as Brendan handed him the keys to the supercar.
